Series 9 One-shots
by Graveygraves
Summary: Oh yes they are back! As promised I will attempt to write a one-shot as a tag to each episode of Series 9, as done with previous seasons. Hopefully all main characters included at some point along the journey, mix of genres. Spoiler warning for those not watching the series yet! Rated T as it follows the shows themes. As always views and comments appreciated. Enjoy.
1. The Inspiration

**Series 9 one-shots: The Inspiration**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**For any of you who are new to this and not read my previous 'series one-shots', they pretty much do what it says on the tin. I write a one-shot for each episode in the series using a prompt from that episode. I try to use as many of the characters as possible, the genres change to fit the mood of the prompt/episode.**

**I hope you enjoy.**

**. . .**

**The Prompt**

**Rossi: **So how many all nighters have you pulled this month?

. . .

Aaron sighed as he scanned the piles of paperwork covering the desk in front of him. Pulling at his now suffocating navy tie he loosened it enough to allow himself to breathe once more. Over the past month he had spent too many nights in his office and was now openly convinced that it had a mind of its own when it came to heating and cooling.

There had been nights, like tonight, when subtropical seemed the best description of the environment. Followed by those that bordered on arctic conditions.

Briefly he let his mind consider what Erin's plush modern office would be like. Then he scolded himself for having such a thought. Aaron had actively made the choice to remain, at all times, in his own Unit Chief office. Most of the time that decision was based on practicality of the situation, after all he couldn't run the team effectively from down the corridor. But the rest if the time it was in avoidance of the one big question that was hanging over him: was he ready to attempt to fill Erin's shoes?

Well was he?

Aaron pondered the question a while longer, as he pulled the nearest pile of buff coloured folders close to him.

It was obvious that paperwork did not put him off, though equally he would be great to see the back it very soon. Somehow it seemed worse this time round, he didn't remember this much paperwork last time he covered for Erin. Guess that's what comes from ever evolving job responsibilities and roles. It keeps changing as accountability, politics and red tape overshadow the day to day results of their job. Sometimes he wondered if what they did on paper was now more important then what they did in the field.

The field.

That was the crunch point. Could he step away from the live action? What would it do to him reading about what his team had done rather than living it with them?

In his years as a prosecutor he had spent more than enough of his life tied to a desk shuffling papers. Joining the FBI had made him come alive.

It wasn't that he craved danger. He just wanted to actively feel like he was making a difference. Putting the bad guys away had been one thing. Stopping them dead in their tracks, sometimes literally, that was something else.

Flicking through the top file he automatically recognised Rossi's style of report writing, factual with a little flourish of drama. Aaron smiled.

His friends.

Could he really walk away from the team? They had long ago become more than just friends. They were connected, a bizarre but highly successful family. They were there for each other no matter what. They didn't judge or keep score. It didn't matter what day of the week or hour of the day, they all knew they call on the others regardless. The core of the team had been through so much together.

People may say that blood is thicker than water but Aaron believed that his team could blow that theory out if the water.

His team.

It was his team. He was proud of them he had and would again defend them to the hilt. His team, it wasn't that Morgan wasn't ready to step up as unit chief. Aaron would give him the post in the blink if an eye. No the issue was that Aaron wasn't ready to relinquish his hold in the reins. His team, Aaron shook his head at his own ridicules possessiveness.

So where did that leave him? Other then sat behind a large desk covered in piles of files and a son asleep at hope hoping to see his Dad one morning this week; the evening as well would be an unexpected bonus.

So his conclusion.

Aaron slowly closed the file he had started. Standing he squeezed as many folders into his brief case as he could. Leaning across to switch off the desk lamp, Aaron gently adjusted the photo frames on his desk, a smile tugging at his lips.

Yes taking this job and leaving unit chief behind would have many benefits. Regular hours, nights at home, air conditioning and heating that worked, weekends with Jack and dinner together. Ok he was realistic enough to know he would be working once Jack was in bed, but he would be there. He'd be a Dad.

But Aaron knew that he was not the sort of man for a desk job. The thought of days, and nights, filled with paperwork sent a shudder down his spine. The thought of staying back while he waited for the reports to come in made him cringe. Though he was sure Garcia would soon knock him into shape if he spent too long hanging around her office waiting for updates. In fact that possibly scared him the most, she would be quick to sort him out.

The jury might still be out on if he got the job, now that it had opened out to others. He could have taken the place without any risk of competition. But the honest truth was that he didn't want it. He was happy being the BAU Unit Chief. He was satisfied by his role and the impact his team had on society.

With a smile on his face Aaron stepped into the elevator ready to head home, with the knowledge that the decision had been made.

. . .

In any moment of decision, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do is nothing.

**Theodore Roosevelt**


	2. The Inspired

**Series 9 one-shots: The Inspired**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**Thank you for the encouragement through reviews, favourites and follows. Found this one a little hard to get a prompt and write from but here goes.**

**. . .**

**The Prompt**

**Blake: **Identical twins . . . what are the odds?

**Rossi:** About 3.5 per thousand . . . what? I asked Reid the same question.

. . .

Spencer entered the darkness of his home, temporarily blinded by the stark contrast from the hallways' bright strip lighting. Running his hand along for the familiar feel of a light switch, he stumbled slightly as he made his way deeper into his apartment. Cursing silently, his table lamp should be on; he left it on a timer. _After all making your home looked lived in from the outside when you are not there greatly reduces the risk of it getting broken into, of course there is no specific statistic for this as it would be impossible to fully quantify the burglaries didn't happen because of lights being on,_ he continued to ramble to himself until he finally found the switch and flicked it.

Heading straight for the socket, he pulled out the timer and examined it. It had been expensive as he had wanted a seven day timer so that he could vary the times that the lights came on, and then anyone that was watching didn't get confident that there was a pattern to his return home. Turning the gadget in his long fingers he walked towards the kitchen. Placing the timer down on the side, it could be something he thought about over the weekend. After all the engineering behind the principle was fairly basic so he should be able to figure it out.

He hesitated as he considered making a pot of coffee. He should make his way to bed but he wanted to write to his Mom first. He continued to try hard to write daily, though often those notes he scribbled down while he was away never got posted. Instead they got amalgamated in one longer letter. That was what he wanted to do now, clear his mind.

So with such a target in mind he set about making some coffee and a sandwich too. Though he was quick to discover that the bread looked more like one of his High School Science experiments, rather than a product you could eat. Binning it, he moved to find some cookies instead.

As he went about the mundane tasks his mind constantly swirled. Even the most simple of tasks was met with a flurry of facts and figures as his mind constantly sorted what could be considered relevant and what was a waste of time. Of course he still didn't always get this right, Spence thought as he nibble at the chocolate chip cookie waiting for the coffee pot to finish filling. Just standing there his mind had calculated the calorie count of the remaining cookies in the barrel and added on that of each mug of coffee he would get from his pot of coffee and how this compared to the average evening meal, which he had just realised he had missed out on again, which was probably why he was hungry. This was the sort of process he went through every time he picked up a coffee or some form of snack in the office. Of course he had long ago learnt not to voice such thoughts. Or on the odd occasion he forgot the usual parameters of social acceptance, Morgan was quick to remind him of the mistake via a quick round of teasing comments.

Yet nothing stopped the constant ream of information that he had to filter through.

Tucking the biscuit barrel under one arm so that he could carry the coffee pot in one hand and an empty mug in the other he made his way through to the room he had styled into a study. It looked much like the lounge with its booked lined walls and leather and heavy wood furniture. Just in here it was a desk and a plush leather office chair. He had spent a bit more on this room as he was where he knew he would spend most of his time.

Trying to find space enough to place down the coffee, without ruining anything that he had left out on the desk, Spencer considered what he could move. Placing down the mug and pushing aside some papers to make room for the pot Spence noticed his previously unfinished calculations. Brushing them aside as he sat down he pulled out a pad of paper from his desk drawer and pouring a coffee before taking another cookie.

Within seconds his hand was moving, his spidery scrawl filling the page as he allowed his mind to pour out onto the page. This first draft, no matter how long, would not be what his mother received. This was the unedited edition, what this contained would worry his mother beyond belief even on her sanest of days.

No this was a cheap form a therapy. A way to relax his mind and clear his head so that he stood a chance of sleeping soon, it was something he had learn to manage his stress levels. In turn that helped manage his headaches. Writing furiously the words spilled out as he empty out all that he had seen, heard and experienced.

Once finished he reached once more for the cookies and finishing of his coffee poured another one. Settling back he briefly considered the fact that this was his fifteenth cup of coffee which put him significantly above the national average of 3.1 cups. Maybe he really should do something about his coffee consumption. Yet again he reined his mind back it to focus on the job in hand.

Taking a fresh piece of paper and picking up his pen Spencer begun to write once more. Not the rapid scrawl of before but something thought out and paced. In doing so he allowed his Mom to know enough to be interesting but not so much as to set her worrying about him once more.

Once finished he sealed the letter into an envelope and placed it by the photo of his mother ready to post it tomorrow. Try not to think about the average number of days it took for a letter to be delivered or the number of letters of post that were lost every year or any of the other number of statistics that came to mind at that moment.

Making his way through to his bedroom, Spencer was soon ready for bed and drifting blissfully off to sleep – to the thoughts of the effects of having less than eight hours sleep a night.

. . .

Like dreams, statistics are a form of wish fulfillment.  
**Jean Baudrillard, French Sociologist **


	3. Final Shot

**Series 9 one-shots: Final Shot**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**My inner Morgan Garcia shipper had a moment, but I have resisted. Though Garcia still called – but I have no idea where my muse got the idea from.**

**. . .**

**The Prompt**

**JJ: **I'm sorry have you ever met Penelope Garcia?

. . .

Garcia had a slightly sluggish feeling as she slowly shut down each of babies. "Sleep tight my Little Ones," she murmured as she did so, "Mama will be back in the morning, ready to play, but right now I need a big dollop of me time."

Busying herself she tidied her desk and collected the various mugs that had seemed to have multiplied while she had worked. Once again she and her favoured band of caped crusaders had battled evil and won. A silly smirk graced her lips as she thought briefly of her best friend in red and blue Lycra aka Superman. 'Mmm' she purred at the very thought of Derek Morgan in such a costume. Maybe this Halloween she could make that come true.

Tottering off with her purse and other bag slung over one shoulder and the collection of mugs clanking together; she made her way through to the kitchen area. With the mugs she had still clinking together as she went. Frequently she would wait for the team's return, but sometimes she just couldn't stay a moment longer. Sometimes the call of a bath heaped full of bubbles beat her mothering nature. Tonight was one of those moments she thought wistfully.

Placing them down and tidying them away in the dishwasher she hummed absent mindedly to herself. Her bath was to be followed by a very special date.

A date: with a tub of 'Ben and Jerry's' and her favourite pink fluffy PJs.

You see in her books she wasn't some superhero rushing out to save the day. Nope that was what the other did. She was more sedate, in a mildly frantic sort of way. She was the oracle, the Goddess of all knowing. Then she switched off and went hope to be Penelope Garcia - the little girl who never grew up.

Leaving the building behind her Penelope was quick to make her way home.

. . .

Floating into her brightly coloured apartment, Penelope still had the sort of dazed expression that came from an overdose of caffeine mixed with a severe lack of sleep. Penelope dropped all of her stuff down and begun stripping off the layers she had built up at work in a vague attempt to look bright and cheerful for her merry band. First her flowery earrings, followed by the rest of her chunky jewellery. Each a little piece that when put together made the persona that everyone saw at work.

She didn't need to be a profiler to have an insight into the belief that she filled her world with colour to plaster over the darkness in her past. It was true that she wanted to avoid what had gone before, but without she wouldn't be where she was today. So instead she didn't avoid darkness she tackled it in the only way she knew how. By helping others she did her bit to banish the monsters back into the closet. Colour was just one of her way of offering that helping hand.

She had once been a Goth, in her heart she still was at times. It had suited her back in the day, the black hair with blue and purple bangs framing her pale face. Though, at the time, her brother Josh had worried about her dark attire, so much so he had dragged her to months of therapy sessions. He insisted it was her reaction to their parents' death and it was not healthy and she needed to snap out of it before she got into trouble. Well guess he had at least got the last piece right.

Garcia was now stripped of her make-up. She had decided against the bath preferring to head straight to chill out on the couch. Her tumbling curls were now plaited in pigtails trailing down the side of her face. Her 'Hello Kitty' PJs were soft against her skin as she smiled at her reflection. She could literally count on one hand the number of people who had seen her like this, Josh being one of them.

She could still remember his face the first time she had entered the room after her arrest. Josh had brought her home. His silence had said more than any words he could have used. They had always been close. He had always cared for her and been there for her and she knew she had let him down. That alone was enough to shame her.

_Her tears had all been shed, she had been scared witless while she had been integrated and left to stew. Her perma-black lashes had allowed mascara to streak her unbelievably white cheeks. She fiddled nervously with her purple and black nails as she needed to focus on something other than Josh sat beside her. She was unsure what she was supposed to say now. She had proved his warnings right. She had got herself into a whole heap of trouble._

_That was nothing to do with being a Goth, or even the grief of losing her parents. No this was her own damn naivety and pride. Yet how did she tell him that. How did she tell him that he hadn't wasted his time taking her to counselling, and that it had in fact saved her from the destructive spiral she had been on at the point? How did she let him know that she had been stupid and gullible all in the name of proving she was a big girl now and could take care of herself? How could she make this up to him? As sorry didn't seem to cut it in this situation._

_Several times she had glanced up, her mouth open ready to say something, but a steely look from Josh was enough to silence her._

_When they had got back to his, Penelope had been surprised to be handed a selection of shopping bags as she was ushered into his home. "You remember where the bathroom is, don't you?" was all he had said as he had left her in the hall way as he headed towards the kitchen. _

_Silently shuffling into the bright white room, Penelope looked at her reflection. What a sorry state she was. He black hair was matted and messy. Her make-up was more cheap horror disaster then Gothic statement. Her clothes were dirty and she knew she smelt, her nose wrinkled as she tried to remember when she had last had a shower._

_Looking through the bags she had been handed she was surprised to see make-up remover, shower gel, a hairbrush and fresh clothes. Rapidly getting herself into the shower Penelope stood, letting the warm water run all over her washing away the stretch of the last few days. _

_Once she felt more human Pen stepped out of the shower and dried herself. Slipping on a pair of pink and white 'Hello Kitty' PJs, she had set about clearing her face. She plaited her hair out of the way and removed the layers until there was nothing left. Looking at her bare faced self for the first time in ages she took a deep breath. Sorry was not enough, but it was a start._

_Entering the lounge, she found Josh sat with a mug of coffee, on the table she noticed a hot chocolate. Josh noticed her glance. "Figure how wired you were when I arrived that you have had enough caffeine for a while," Josh explained. He looked up at her, a surprised expression on his face. "You look better now. You look like Penelope Garcia again."_

_Pen smiled nervously as she curled herself up on the couch hugging the hot mug. For a long time they sat in silence once more. _

_Eventually Pen broke the silence, "I'm sorry, I was stupid."_

_Josh just nodded not arguing with her words._

"_Can you ever forgive me?"_

_Josh closed the distance, hugging his sister tight as the tears rolled once more. Not out of fear this time but out of shame. _

"_Penelope Garcia you can be the most infuriating person on this planet, but I wouldn't change you for the world, but please no more silly games. I promised Mom and Dad I would look out for you; I swore on their grave that I would keep you safe. Please don't push me away again."_

"_Never," Penelope had promised._

Looking down at the photo on her dressing table Penelope smiled as she remembered the road trip they had made together when she had left her life in the West, ready to start again in the East. The offer of becoming a FBI technical analysis had been much more appealing than a prison sentence. Yet if she had never been that person, she would have never been this. Josh was proud of her now, she knew that.

But just to keep her grounded, each year he sent her a pair of 'Hello Kitty' PJs.

. . .

Knowing others is wisdom, knowing yourself is Enlightenment.

**Lao Tzu, philosopher **


	4. To Bear Witness

**Series 9 one-shots: To Bear Witness**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**As guessed/requested by nebula2 the prompt does come from the crossword conversation, because I just loved that moment (which is strange and means I have used Blake comments twice!). **

**. . .**

**The Prompt**

**Blake:** 10 letters, starting with C.

**Reid:** Cabalistic

(If like me you had no idea of the meaning of cabalistic it means having a secret or hidden meaning – seems to fit Rossi well)

. . .

He really didn't understand what the great mystery was. As far as he was concerned there was no secret, no hidden agenda. He was a straight forward guy who, to excuse the pun, you could read like a book. Which many people had done since he had managed to turn being an agent into a celebrity status.

Dave took another slow sip of the rich amber liquid he had in front of him. Glancing around the subtlety light bar he noticed the same small groups of people who had been there an hour ago when he first arrived. It was why he has always liked the place, the predictability, he was pretty sure they were the same people that had been here the last time he was, and the time before that.

The others who came here had long ago given up pestering him for an autograph or his opinion on something or other that he usually had little interest in. No one here wished to impress him or argue with him. They were happy to leave him be. Which was just what he desired right now.

Dan, the barman came by to offer a top up. Dave nodded his reply, though this would be his last. In the time that he had been with Erin he has barely touched a drop. She had insisted it had not been necessary, but somehow it only seemed fair when she faced a daily struggle to remain sober.

Even now, since losing her months ago, Dave hadn't returned to his old ways. His prime stock of aged scotch continued to age. Yet tonight he had felt the need to visit his old haunt once more.

So here he sat, the same stool at the bar, the same soft jazz playing the background, many familiar faces dotted around the room. Just like the old times.

Except it wasn't. Things had changed, moved on. That had been obvious today as the powers that be had finally found a replacement for Erin. Dave swilled back a large gulp of whiskey, it burned his throat at it did so, a sensation that he was no longer use to.

Finding someone to replace her had needed to be done. Aaron was going kill himself at the rate he was going – no one can do the jobs of two people and expect to survive it. And Dave has been glad that they hadn't selected his friend as Section Chief. Not that he would ever want to hold Aaron back, if that had been his wish, but the man's own uncertainty on the matter had cemented Dave's views that the role wasn't for him. Not yet anyway.

So that had left him to come to terms with the fact that it would be an outside. Outsiders were never a good thing in Dave's book. But an outsider that knew more about them then they did off him was even worse.

They should have been given the heads up. Some sort of warning that would have Garcia long enough to dig up the dirt and let them know what they were facing. And they all knew the feisty little tech kitten didn't need long to do her thing.

It would have only been polite to let them be armed with the same background information that he had obviously had of them. After all the man had walked into the room and not needed the usual round of introductions. That had made Dave uncomfortable to start with – what did he know? What were his views of each of them? On what was he basing his opinion?

Right now, in this secluded spot, Dave was contemplating the next move. He wasn't the sort that allowed office politics to cloud his view and he wasn't looking for career advancement. So there was no need for Dave to keep the guy sweet - which meant he was free to take his usual 'like me or lump me' approach. After all he has been the thorn in Erin's side for enough years, why should Cruz been any different.

Though Dave had to admit the guy hasn't been the pain in the arse that he had thought he might be out in the field. Cruz had let them do their job. He hadn't shown any sign of thinking that he knew better. In fact Dave almost had to admit that the guy has been totally fair and though he hated to say it, almost likeable.

Which was why Dave wouldn't admit it, he wouldn't go that far, not yet. He was still suspicious. Dave knew the pressures that were placed on the Section Chief. He knew as he had lived through them with Erin. He knew how she has been torn between protecting the team and fulfilling her role. He had sat the nights with her as she had paced, fighting the urge to drown her sorrows once more.

And because of that Matt Cruz had to earn Dave's respect. He had to prove that come hell and high water he was on the team's side. Dave needed to know this guy had their back. So that while they were out in the field they could all concentrate on the job in hand and not worry about the latest round of budget cuts.

It had taken Erin many years to realise the strength if the BAU's elite team. She had fought them and they had fought back. But in the end she had got it. She had seen that the team were more than a group of people working together, they were a family. They didn't just get on they cared for each other. What affected one affected all of them and through that they had the most amazing support network possible.

Dave had experienced it first-hand. Penelope's cookies sent to cheer him up. Suggested reading from Reid. There had been plenty of opportunities for some good old fashioned hard labour with Derek at one or other of his projects. Then the offers of family time with Aaron or JJ and their little crew. Blake's cultural nights out, that stopped him from mopping around at home.

They somehow knew when to be there and when to leave him alone. They had shared his sorrow and helped him smile again.

What remained was to see if Cruz was made if the same stuff. Would he fight a battle against the odds? Would he leave them alone when needed but be there when they wanted him? Would he listen? Would he understand? Would he care what happened to them?

Only time could tell.

. . .

God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

**Reinhold Niebuhr****, Theologian **


	5. Route 66

**Series 9 one-shots: Route 66**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**Sorry but I couldn't ignore the obvious with this one.**

**. . .**

**The Prompt**

**Haley:** You should talk more . . . period.

. . .

As Jack bounded into the lounge Aaron grimaced, unintentionally, bracing himself for the impact.

Since he was send home from hospital Jack had tried his hardest to look after his father. It was something Aaron hadn't failed to appreciate - even if it had involved drinking tepid tea and eating burn toast. Jessica had done her best to oversee the proceedings but Jack was an independent young lad, Aaron couldn't imagine where he got that trait!

However, with all his additional caring Jack still hadn't got the idea that the jolts caused by bouncing onto the couch or the extra squeeze in his cuddle sent shots of pains ricocheting around Aaron's body.

Not that Aaron honestly minded. He was alive – the pain was enough of a reminder of that fact. Though he had a lot more pleasant reminders and one of those was just landing next to him.

"You ok Buddy?" Aaron asked as he tried hard to mask the intense pain in his side.

Jack looked up at his father, a concerned look on his face. "I'm good, how's you today? Do you want me to get you something? Miss Penelope says that tea makes everything better, shall I get you some?" He was already half way off the couch before his father could stop him.

"It's ok Jack I've just had a coffee. How about you jump back up here and we have a chat?"

Slowly Jack edged his way back onto the couch, a look of trepidation clear on his face. "What's up Daddy? What'd I do wrong?"

Aaron was surprised by his son's words. "Nothing," he said as he gently ruffled the boy's hair before pulling him in closer for a hug. Ignoring another bolt of pain, Aaron held on tight. Jack was the most precious thing in his life and it hurt him to see Jack's troubled face. "Can't we have a chat without there being a problem?"

Jack nodded, a solemn look on his face, as if he was still waiting for some sort of problem.

Aaron smiled, trying to reassure the youngster. "I wanted to show you something that I need your help with." He pulled out a large photo album from down the side of the couch. Opening it front of the two of them the first page simply read 'The Hotchners' and had a small family photo underneath. Turning to the first double page Aaron paused to let Jack look over the first few photos. There was a selection of shots of Haley and him, from as far back as their college days. Around the artfully placed photos were little nick-nacks and decorations.

"Is that you in a pirate hat Daddy?" Jack asked, leaning in closer to the photo.

"Sure is," Aaron chuckled, "Think I still have it hidden away somewhere, would you like me to find it for you?"

Jack nodded eagerly as Aaron slowly turned to another creative page, this one strewn with confetti between photos of Aaron and Haley's wedding day. Aaron looked down at his son who was busy looking intently at each photo in turn.

As they turned to the next page, full of holiday snaps and palm tree decorations Aaron spoke. "When you Mama died I made her a promise. She made me promise that I would tell you how we met. She wanted you to know that we weren't always cross with each other, that there was a time when we use to laugh, but most of all, your Mama wanted you to believe in love."

The room was silent as Jack looked up to his father, the wetness of the tears that were building evident in the corner of his eyes.

"The problem was Jack I didn't know how to."

"But you know everything Daddy!"

Aaron shook his head, "No, no I don't. There are a lot of things I don't know and things I need to get better at. I have tried, but I have let things slip. Like this." Aaron tilted the album up. "I asked Miss Penelope how I was to keep my promise to your Mama and she helped me start this album. It was so painful going through the photos that your Mama and I had with Penelope that I never carried it on. She would have helped me complete it all but . . ."

"But?"

"But I was a coward and hid it away, promising myself that one day I would finish it, but I never have. Until now." Aaron continued to turn the pages, now the pages were plainer, the odd ticket or memento was stuck in alongside the images.

"That pirate hat you saw, that was how your Mama and I first met," Aaron noticed how Jack snuggled into him as he spoke. "I auditioned for a part in a musical your Mama was in just so that I could meet her and talk to her."

"But you can't sing!"

"I know," Aaron smiled. "But never the less I got a part and you Mama and I became friends and we fell in love. I still love her now and I still loved her when we weren't together. I have never stopped loving your Mama."

As they reached the photos that all seemed to be either Jack with Haley or Jack with Aaron, Jack looked up once more, "Then why did we not all live together?" 

Aaron swallowed, he had known that this would not be an easy chat to have, but somehow hadn't expected such questions.

"Well, I was working very hard and I started to miss important things. This made your Mama cross with me and I got cross when she couldn't see how important work was to me. We started to be cross more than we were happy and we didn't want you to see us like that. We wanted you to enjoy your time with us." Aaron hoped that explained things to him.

Jack went back to the album, turning the pages slowly, pointing things out and asking questions about things he had long forgotten. Finally the page was blank.

"Is that it?"

Aaron shook his head. "Nope, this is where I need your help." He reached for a box on the table beside him and opened it. "I got these printed off the other day. I think it is time we added some more memories to the album - ones that have happened over the last couple of years."

Aaron offered Jack the box. Inside were photos of Aaron and Jack but also ones with Beth. "I thought this book was about Mama?"

"I thought it was about all of us, our family," Aaron answered, "But if you just want Mama then we can leave out the photos of Beth and other people."

Jack shook his head, "I like Beth, but she's not Mama."

"She isn't and never will be but I feel she is an important person. Just like Aunt Jess and the team, this is why there are photos of them in there too. But if you want it to be just us and Mama that's fine too. There are plenty more photos we can use."

Jack pulled out a soccer photo, "Can this go in? Soccer is important to me. Mama used to play at the park with me, she wasn't as good as you, and she kicked like a girl." 

"Don't ever let JJ hear you say that mister!" Aaron said smiling, "Of course it can go in."

Jack then pulled one out from their trip to New York. He looked at it for a while, "Do you think Mama would like Beth?"

Aaron nodded, a tear dampening his cheek, "I know Mama would like Beth. She would like anyone or anything that makes us happy."

"Then this one needs to go in too."

. . .

Happiness is not something readymade. It comes from your own actions.

**Dalai Lama **


	6. In the Blood

**Series 9 one-shots: In the Blood**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**Sorry but yet again I couldn't ignore the obvious with this one. I apologise for my Rossi in this one but I was disappointed by his choice at Day of the Dead party.**

**. . .**

**The Prompt**

Death ends a life not a relationship

**Mitch Albom**

. . .

**Penelope Garcia**

Sat in the dull light of her apartment, candles flickering around her, Penelope stared at the photo she held in one hand, while slowly sipping more punch from her skull mug. Her unbelievably high heels were in a heap on the floor but her couch and her feet were tucked up under the long dress she wore. Her knees were pulled up to her chest as she just sat and contemplated.

The picture of her parents, stepfather baloney he was more of a father than her biological father had ever been, and she would tell that to anyone that tried to make him anything other than her parent. The smiles on their faces as they held her between them made Penelope smile, even if it was weakly. She couldn't remember this specific moment, she was way too young, but she had many other happy moments.

She had loved her parents, unconditionally, as a child should. Only in her line of work she was aware that there were more dysfunctional families out there then she cared to think about.

But that wasn't her, she loved them and they had loved her. They had loved her just the way she was, frantic moments and madcap ideas included. Shuffling down on the couch she pulled the throw over her as she snuggled up with her memories of happy times.

. . .

JJ never deliberately thought of Roz. However even after all these years there were little things that triggered a thought of her sister. It could be something as unpredictable as walking past a teenage girl with the fresh scene that Roz wore. Or a sudden craving for peanut butter on toast late at night, just like Roz had made her before bed many a time. Or baffling things like how Henry licked the chocolate spread off his bagel before eating it, just Roz had always done.

JJ doubted that there was a day that went by when she didn't think of Roz.

But nothing had surpassed the time she had visited Emily in Paris. JJ had known she had needed to concentrate. She was there for work not pleasure, yet the whole time her mind was occupied with Roz wanted this, Roz would love this, what would Roz do right now?

That was when, on her way back through the airport, she had picked up the small model of the Eiffel Tower. The cheap plastic trinket was one of hundreds literally available on the shelf. Yet to JJ it meant so much.

. . .

Sat in front of the game, every time he had the chance to fly over to Chicago he would make sure he had tickets. Today was not one of those occasions. So in front of his supersize scene he was, beer in one hand.

He had often been asked how come a son of Commack was a die-hard Cubbies' fan. The honest truth was Private First Class Daryl Jenson. It was amazing the influence a fellow comrade could have when you were entrenched together for days, weeks, on end.

Jenson and Rossi had joined up at the same time. Basic training had been completed in tandem. That was followed with them both being drafted into the 1st Marine Division. In all of that time they had relied on their own brand of tormenting each other to survive. It all started as a bit of general teasing and grew to what others might view and malicious. Though they both knew there was nothing to the comments other than keeping each other grounded when everything around them was so surreal.

That was until the day that they lost Jenson. Dave pinched the bridge of his nose. It was a memory that he didn't want to relive, yet again. The memory he did want to keep was coming home and watching his Chicago Cubs game. Whether it was purely the sentiment of the game or if it truly the best game he had seen in a long time, but whatever it was he was converted.

. . .

Stopping the clock Alex pulled a face, she was not impressed with the time it hadn't taken her to complete the crossword. She couldn't blame it on having one too many at Penelope's party, as that was not something she did. Yet it was definitely not up to her usual standards, especially if you added on time penalties for the mistakes!

No the reason was that Alex's mind hadn't really been focused on the blank boxes she had been aiming to fill. Instead it was a long way away. Back in a time when Saturday mornings involved sitting with her Mom, learning the skill of the crossword puzzle. Starting with something simple and age appropriate, but moving on quickly once she had the idea. Pen in hand they sat together in silence, sharing a precious time without saying a word. That was until one of them got stuck – well Alex knew deep down her mother was rarely stuck and she suspected it was just her was of testing.

Placing the paper down onto the coffee table, she reached for her coffee, a happy smile on her face.

. . .

Spencer moved the photo frame beside his bed, angling it to where he could see it as he lay in bed. He had no idea how it had got moved but it had. Looking up at her image, he traced a long finger slowly over her cheek. Imaging for one moment that it was really her, her soft skin under his finger tips, but it wasn't and never would be.

In fact the only time her had ever held her was once she was dead. Damning his eidetic memory as all he could feel was the coldness where there should have been warmth. Tears fell as he picked up the frame and held it close to his chest. Settling down for the night Spencer once more held the woman he loved while he slept.

There were no words for what they had, there were no words for what they lost.

. . .

Taking out the badge from the bottom of the small cardboard box, Derek placed it beside the photo of his father. He didn't know why he wanted it back out know but it seemed right. Adjusting the two so that they were married up just right Derek had to smile.

His Pops was his inspiration, the shining light at the end of a very dark tunnel. His Mom was special, his world, his everything. But his Pops was something else.

He was the man that he had admired and looked up to all of his life. The man he had tried to be and base his own life philosophy on. Derek had literally followed in his father's footsteps, yet somehow what had been enough for his father had not been so for Derek. He has pushed himself to go further, to make everyone proud. Until here he was in the BAU, Special Agent Derek Morgan.

Yet looking at the family photo he had next to the photo of his Pops, Derek had to wonder if he had missed out on something along the way.

. . .

Aaron wanted to keep the memory of Haley alive for Jack. He had to admit it was something he wasn't always good at doing. It was difficult finding the balance between remembering and moving on. Days seemed to blur into weeks then months, and suddenly he would realise how long it had been since they had last talked about Haley or visited her grave.

But since his 'experience' Aaron was determined things would not slip. Jack and I had finally finished updating the photo album, and even changed a few photos around the house. And tonight Aaron was busy creating Haley's favourite dinner for the two of them to enjoy.

Chopping up the veg as he was busy prepping he tried to imagine Jack's face when he saw this many vegetables on his plate. Aaron had to wonder would it being his Mom's favourite be enough to convince him to eat it all. If not there were always the chocolate brownies baking in the oven, another favourite of Haley's, as added bribery.

. . .

"There is no death, daughter. People die only when we forget them,' my mother explained shortly before she left me. 'If you can remember me, I will be with you always."  
**Isabel Allende****, **_**Eva Luna**_


	7. Gatekeeper

**Series 9 one-shots: Gatekeeper**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the ideas**

**Trying hard not to get too behind on this but RL is a pain and a half at the moment. Will do the best I can. I am sure some of my timings might be out on this but it is really had to cross ref David Rossi's back story with facts (seems not to always fit together) so please allow me a bit pinch of fictional play with the timings of this. **

**Bit of self promoting here! This year's Profilers Choice Awards final ballot is up. Please go take a look there are many amazing authors for you to discover and I am proud to have three of my stories nominated this year. Have your say and vote for the stories you have enjoyed this year. Find out more at /Profiler-Choice-Awards-2013/141001/**

**. . .**

**The Prompt**

**Rossi:** Right over there . . . that's where I saw Carolyn for the first time.

. . .

Taking another swig from the beer bottle, David Rossi tried hard not to spill any as he laughed, listening to Private Holmes drunken escapades from the night before. Rolling his eyes as the tale culminated in the sort of unmentionable boasts they all liked to share, Dave took another long glug.

As his group became unusually quiet, he turned to glance towards a loud shriek followed by a bunch of giggles. Settling into the booth on the far side was a group of women. Obviously as they had made their way into the seat one of the drinks had spilt, hence the shriek.

"Oh dear, I've seen that look before," Private Jenson wrapped a heavy arm around Dave's shoulder. He wobbled slightly as he continued with a slur, "I have definitely seen that look before. Someone is on the prowl and has just spotted his pray. Go get her Tiger."

Dave smiled at the way the words his friend spoke begun to blur into each other. He knew they had all had more than they should but some of them were starting to make the overindulgence obvious. Though Jenson had a point, the elegantly dressed young lady sitting in the far corner had caught his eye. There was a definite something about her that stood out from the others with her. She had the same look of excitement on her face, but with a slightly more reserved expression at the same time. She wasn't anywhere near a giggly and flappy as the others.

He guessed they were here to catch tonight's star performers. The Beatles may be here to boast moral, but Beatle mania brought in a bevy of hotties to boot. Tonight was no exception. Soon the over excited gaggle of girls that were filling the room would be a screaming on mass and making it near impossible for a man to get a decent drink. Somehow he couldn't image the mystery woman as one of those shrill voiced fanatics.

Shrugging off Jenson's arm, Dave decided to meander over to find out more about the individual who was slowly sipping on her drink.

"Evening Ladies," Dave said with a winning smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes, "I couldn't help but notice the little mishap you had. Would any of you fine ladies care for another drink?"

Three heads nodded eagerly, the forth, owned by the woman his had made to journey over for remained still. However her deep eyes were firmly focused on him, as her fingers circled lazily round the rim of her glass.

Ok so she was willing to play it cool, he could live with that – after all the fun is always in the chase.

"So let me guess, I see a set of Blue Hawaiians, very classy. But you're drinking a . . . ?"

The fad for fancy cocktails lead to a batch of brightly coloured over priced drinks that in Dave's opinion reminded him of chemistry class back at school. He preferred his drinks straight up and if he could afford it expensive. But he had learnt the way to a woman's heart was knowing the difference between a Blue Hawaiian and a Sloe Gin Fizz.

The mystery woman smiled, Dave froze, and there was something dangerously intriguing about her. He knew he had a reputation for being a bit of a ladies' man, but this time his first thought wasn't what they could be getting up to in a couple of hours time.

"Sorry Mama always taught me not to accept drinks from strangers, especially those wearing a uniform!"

"Oh come on Lyn," her friend nudged her, "One drink isn't going to hurt."

"Well if being strangers is bothering you let me introduce myself, Sergeant David Rossi, at your service Mam," Dave snapped to attention and saluted.

'Lyn' shook her head, her eyes closing as she tried to hide a smile. It was enough to let him know the charm was working.

"So now we are aquatinted, Lyn, may I buy you a drink?"

"It's Carolyn, only those who have known me too long, or wish to annoy me call me Lyn."

She really was one cool customer Dave thought. Slowly taking a slug of the beer he had brought over with him, he used the time to contemplate his next move.

"Is that a no to the drink, or are you just making sure we get to know everything about each other first?"

Carolyn snorted a sarcastic hint to the sound. "You don't give up easily do you?"

"Nope, so what will it be? Need to get a round in before it's impossible to get to the bar."

"Come on Lyn just tell the guy whatever it is that you are drinking."

Draining what was left in the tumbler she held Carolyn looked up, "Whiskey Sour."

Dave saluted once more, "I shall be back shortly Ladies."

Up at the bar, Dave felt a heavy arm hit his shoulder once more, "If you're getting them in?"

Dave nodded, holding two fingers up to the young girl that had served him, letting her know he wanted another beer. This had better be worth it as Carolyn was costing him a fortune already.

"So Davy Boy, any luck? Which one you hitting on?" Jenson turned and leant against the bar as he watched the group Dave had been chatting to. "Any chance of us teaming up? Could do with a bit of your luck tonight."

"You know when we are back on base we need to have a little chat about you respecting your superiors."

"Yeah right, known you too long for that. On base you can kick my ass all you like but out here we're even."

Dave smiled, agreeing with his friend. It had been one of the hardest parts of receiving his recent promotion, suddenly taking charge of the guys that you had trained with.

"To be honest if you want to grab Watson and Thomas I could do with some help separating the pack."

"Sure thing, just confirm the target and the additional defences will be removed," Jenson added a mock salute to boot.

Dave took a step closer to Jenson, heads together they plotted the next attack.

. . .

Standing behind Carolyn, Dave was close enough to smell the clean freshness of her hair as she watched her idol up on stage. Unlike her friends Carolyn's hair was cut into a sharp bob, dark and sleek. Glancing sideways, as the music blared; he smiled as Jenson was 'busy' with one of the three young ladies that had been glued to Carolyn's side. Stepping closer Dave tentively put an arm around her waist and tugged her back towards him. He felt her stiffen, but before he spoke she soften and relaxed against him.

Leaning in so she could hear him, he spoke; "I know the reputation we Marines have but I wanted to let you know that I would like to have the opportunity to take you out to dinner. I am not sure when I will next be off base, and it's not long until we are back out to 'Nam, but if you let me have your number then I will call you as soon as I know."

Carolyn turned to face him, "Really you want me to believe that line so you can get in my pants tonight?"

Dave shook his head; he had no intention of trying such a move. She had caught his attention and right now he wanted to know more. Holding his hands up defensively he then pulled her close as he whispered in her ear; "Honestly Carolyn I want to earn the right to call you Lyn. This isn't about tonight."

. . .

"I could not tell you if I loved you the first moment I saw you, or if it was the second or third or fourth. But I remember the first moment I looked at you walking toward me and realized that somehow the rest of the world seemed to vanish when I was with you."  
**Cassandra Clare****, **_**Clockwork Prince**_


End file.
